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Bryan Stumpf's China Journal |
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Yandang Shan
and Xi'an I just recently moved out of my apartment. According to my contract, the university could no longer pay my rent. So I moved into Yaping’s apartment. And since there is only one bed in her apartment, she is staying with her friend Joy for the duration of my stay. I’m very thankful for Yaping’s hospitality - her apartment is close to some of my favorite Shanghai hang-outs: the Crown Plaza Hotel, Jiao Tong’s running track, and Little Happy, Cheap. The temperatures still hover around 110 Fahrenheit most days. But Yaping’s apartment has working air-conditioning. Plus, her shower is a lot safer than my last one. And it’s in a more woodsy location so there’s less honking to be heard – I’m still in the middle of the city, but trees buffer the street noise. Plus, there’s a nice view out the window - a couple of evergreens to glance at while I write journals. As I continue with catching up in my journal, we’re now reaching back to June 20-27th, one of my more exhausting weeks in China. This entry actually consists of two trips with two days of business in between: Yandang Shan (pronounced “yon dong shon”) from June 20th-22nd, two days back in Shanghai to conduct Speech Final Exams, then Xi’an (pronounced “she on”) from 25th-27th.
Yandang Shan (“shan” is Chinese for mountain) was never listed on my “Places to Go in China” list. In fact, I'd never even heard of Yandang until my boss at Jiao Tong insisted that I join her and other Foreign Language faculty on a tour group to the mountain. Remember in my last journal, I mentioned how the Foreign Language faculty won a hefty sum of money for winning first place in the Jiao Tong Faculty Singing Competition? Well, they decided to spend the prize money on this trip. There was already 22 going on the trip and they had enough winnings to pay for my inclusion. So on the Sunday morning of June 20th, I joined the Foreign Language faculty as they set off on a bus departing from the Jiao Tong campus. As soon as I stepped on the bus, I was reminded that the Foreign Language department consists almost completely of women. The tour group would basically be just me and 22 Chinese women. Fortunately, I wouldn’t be too overwhelmed – the tour director and the bus driver were male. Also, Dean Wang would be joining us. Dean Wang is the Dean of the School of Foreign Languages (my boss above Xiaohong) and we got along quite well. At the time of this trip, I was in the middle of reading a dissertation for him. He wanted me to check for stylistic and grammatical errors on the 100-page manuscript. Unfortunately, the proofreading work had become a bit of thorn in my side - not because I wasn’t willing to do this favor for Dean Wang - proofreading can be laborious, but I actually liked having the chance to read a Chinese dissertation written in English. The only reason the dissertation had become a thorn in my side was because, weeks before, I had already spent a fair number of hours reading a totally different dissertation. With about 10 pages left to proofread of the 50-page work, Dean Wang called to say that he had accidentally given me the wrong dissertation. And so I had to start all over with the 100-page dissertation. All in all, it didn’t really matter. Reading both dissertations would be a valuable experience, and I would hopefully finish reading the 100-page dissertation by the end of Yandang trip. The six-hour ride to Yandang started off being a bit uncomfortable, not because of my traveling companions, but because of the bus’s cramped seats. Unfortunately, like many Chinese buses, our bus lacked leg-room. I tried to get comfortable in the window seat next to Yaping. But after an hour of fidgeting, I finally took the center seat in the back row, wedged between everybody’s luggage. But at least I could sit with my legs straight out in the aisle. And Yaping and I could still chit-chat since she was sitting in the second to last row. Watching the country-side stream by the windows, I noticed the farmland was different from the farmland we had seen from the Shanghai trains. Though the land was much hillier, farmers carve out terraces on the slope, creating levels of narrow fields. Also, I caught my first glimpse of the water buffaloes often used in pulling farm equipment. After about five hours of riding the bus, we veered off the main highway to visit one of smaller mountains near Yandang. We would be doing a little hiking - as a kind of warm-up for the days ahead. It was a short hike, and the whole trail was paved, but the scenery was incredible. We visited a Taoist mausoleum - my first glimpse of Taoism in China - a mountaintop lake, a suspension bridge, and a pagoda. Along the trail, our guide proved to be a witty guy. At the Taoist mausoleum, there were two dogs chained to little huts near the tomb. When our group approached the tomb, both dogs dashed towards us until their chains were taut and barked complaints about our intrusion. During the guide’s introduction to the tomb, the barking didn’t stop. But it wasn’t really continuous howling; it was a more contemplative barking, with a short ruminative pause between each bark. Our guide suggested the guard dogs were actually welcoming us to the Taoist tomb - they were offering their own variety of greetings and salutations. After our short hike, we rode the bus to our hotel. The hotel was tucked in the middle of a small mountain town. Our guide warned me that foreigners were rare in this part of China, and I would probably garner a lot of curiosity from the locals. Also, I’d be wise to not frequent the foot massage practitioners – apparently, they would try to give me more massaging than I asked for. There was actually supposed to be one other male Foreign Language teacher going on the trip - I was suppoed to share a room with him at the hotel. But he backed out at the last minute, so I ended up getting my own room at the hotel. At first, I thought this would be a nice perk. I especially liked how my room had a balcony. But since everything was in Chinese, I had to ask Yaping to come to my room so she should translate various labels and warnings. After a short dinner in the hotel’s banquet hall, we got back on the bus and sped off to a place that could only be visited after sundown. Our destination was called a “night park,” where lighted trails lead you to spots for night viewing the natural features of the park. With most of the landscape in inky black darkness, I was wondering what natural features we could expect to see. The main attraction of the night park was spotting how various crags and rocky horizons, when silhouetted against the night sky, resembled something. For example, when standing at a particular spot in the park, the silhouette of a few boulders stacked on top of one another was supposed to look like a cowboy. In most cases, you really had to stretch your imagination. At one point, the tour guide veered off the lighted trail to show us a small cave. He said if you took a few steps in, you’d notice a significant temperature drop. It had been a pretty hot day - so if someone invites me to step into a natural fridge, I don’t need to be told twice. I eagerly tiptoed into the mouth of the cave. The cave was completely black darkness – there could have been a hibernating grizzly a few feet in front of me and I wouldn’t know it. But I didn’t care. The damp cool felt great and I wanted to go deeper. With the rest of the group watching, I daringly stepped further into the darkness – and promptly bonked my head on the roof of the cave. With my pride wounded, I backed out of the cave, discreetly rubbed my head, and said something like, “Hey, it sure is cold in there!” After visiting a few more spots where cliffs and crevices resembled Buddhas, dragons, and pandas, we returned to the hotel. I retired quickly to my room and fell fast asleep. It had been a long day of riding and ambling through mountain passes, and we’d be hiking the big mountains tomorrow.
I awoke the next morning with light streaming into my room from the balcony. My room was only on the second floor, but from the balcony I had a good view of the bustling courtyard below with farmers selling produce. After a quick breakfast, our group ventured back into the mountain, led again by our trusty tour guide. We spent that day visiting several parks and hiking several trails. It wasn’t long before I recognized a pattern among the parks in the Yandang Mountain area. They all seemed almost too cleaned up and too tamed; there was too much effort to make nature more appealing and acceptable to urban dwellers. I actually enjoyed the hiking - it was the most hiking I’d done so far in China – but it didn’t seem like real hiking since the trails were all paved. So the sense of a real wilderness adventure was somewhat diminished. But then again, observing the “nature enthusiasts” visiting the park, I could see why the trails were paved. A surprisingly high number of hikers were wearing some form of dress shoe - some were wearing high heels. And that included a few from our group. And it seemed like every single rock feature, from every angle, was shown to look like something else. It was fun at first, but I eventually got tired of seeing how this rock looked like a fish and how that rock looked like an elephant. It seemed the park officials were not willing to let a rock be a rock. Xiaohong asked me if in American parks they point how rock features resemble something else. I said, “They do this in American parks, but usually they’ll only have two or three situations where certain rock features resemble something else. Here, it seems that EVERY rock feature resembles something else.” She replied saying, “It seems the Chinese have more imagination.” I was slightly perturbed by this comment. I felt like saying, “Not necessarily. In American parks, we’re willing to let a rock be a rock. Most Americans prefer to admire a rock’s natural qualities instead of simply pointing how it looks like sleeping dragon. And sometimes, American parks will even point out the historical or geological significances of rock formations.” But I didn’t say any of this - I figured American parks probably try to make nature more appealing and acceptable to urban dwellers too. As we hiked through more mountain passes, I discovered more evidence of the park officials making nature more appealing for humans. Every naturally craggy stone feature seemed to have Chinese characters etched into part of its facade. In some ways, it seemed to be a dramatic disruption in the natural features of the rock. And to my surprise, there also seemed to be no animals. I don’t know whether they were removed from the area or the droves of humans made them leave on their own accord. During the whole trip, we saw only one animal - a squirrel foraging in a tree. There didn’t even seem to be any birds in the area. Though nature seemed too tamed at times, the underlying beauty of the landscape couldn’t be concealed under paved trails and etched markings. The bamboo forests, sheer rock cliffs, and stony peaks were like nothing I had seen in any of the national parks of America. And there was a very strong Buddhist population in the Yandang Mountain area. We had the opportunity to visit some Buddhist monasteries, many seemingly embedded into the mountain. At one Buddhist temple, we were taught various ways to pray to Buddha. I found out the reason Buddhists burn incense – it’s a means of communication. Since Buddha can’t be expected to understand all the different languages of the world, the smoke from incense can translate your concerns and joys and lift them up to Buddha. As a full day of hiking came to a close, we rode to the hotel and gathered in the hotel’s banquet hall for dinner. Yaping mentioned how disappointed she was with the food at the hotel. I didn’t really have many complaints other than how they were serving hot beverages and hot soups on such a hot day. Yaping explained that even though summers are hot in this part of China, hot tea and hot soup are still served with every meal. She said that no matter how hot the summers get, the Chinese would still drink tea and eat soup with their meals. It didn’t matter if any of the food was too hot - we were all feeling hungry after our long day of hiking. A lot of food was eaten and many individuals participated in beer swilling. In many of the banquets I’ve been to in China, there’s usually a point where friendly toasting turns into competitive drinking. It seems each person at the table will coerce another person to down a whole glass of beer. If anyone refuses to gulp down her beer, then everyone at the table will taunt that person until she drinks. Fortunately, they usually exclude me from the competitive drinking. Surprisingly, no one seems to get noticeably drunk. Full of food and merriment, some faculty went out for foot massages, but I thought it best to retire to my room. Before heading to bed, I walked out onto my balcony and looked for stars in the night sky. The little mountain town had too much artificial light - I could only pick out a few planets.
I awoke early the next morning to finish proofreading Dean Wang’s dissertation. Every once in a while I’d walk to the balcony to watch the bustling farmers. They were waiting for hotel occupants to start spilling out the front door. I finished the dissertation in time to pack my luggage and join the others for breakfast. After breakfast, we checked out of the hotel and boarded our bus. On this day, we had a few short hikes and a waterfall to visit before heading back to Shanghai. At our first park, I was again reminded of how the parks made nature almost too accessible – at the base of one stone peak, we found an elevator. I guess it was the only way for the park crowds to reach the top of the peak. But an elevator seemed to be such an unnatural fixture in the middle of this rocky terrain. I didn’t know whether to be impressed or disappointed. After checking out a small lake at the top of a peak, we took the elevator back down to the “ground floor” and headed off to the park with the waterfall. We had to walk a little ways to reach the waterfall. Along the way, we stopped to watch a high-wire act with two men and a bike. Daredevil acts like this are actually common in the nature parks of Yandang Mountain. The day before, we had seen a man rappel down the face of a cliff. At first when I saw the guy hanging from a rope, I just thought we were witnessing some adventurous guy on his weekend excursion. But Yaping explained that men are paid by the park to perform these daredevil acts. There was even scheduled times for their acts. Though it was a thrilling sight, it seemed like something you’d expect more at a circus than in the middle of a nature reserve. After watching the high-wire act, we found the waterfall. Because of recent drought conditions, there was only a slight stream spilling over the edge of the 70-foot cliff, but it was still a majestic sight. We all took turns standing near the base of the waterfall for pictures. Though sometimes a strong breeze would push the falling water directly onto our heads, there weren’t any concerns of drowning under a deluge. And thus ended our time in Yandang Shan. We were soon back on our bus and heading for Shanghai. I again watched the countryside stream by, searching for water buffaloes and multi-leveled fields. As our bus neared Shanghai, I walked to the front of the bus to return the dissertation to Dean Wang. He was very appreciative, and I was glad to finally have the dissertation work behind me. However, in the two days ahead, I’d have more work to focus on - the Speech Final Exams. Wednesday, June 23rd and Thursday, June 24th were two very busy days. I had just arrived from Yandang on Tuesday. On Wednesday, I still needed to do a lot of prep for the Speech Final Exams. And since I was in Yandang on Tuesday, I had to reschedule my Tuesday morning class for Thursday afternoon. So on Thursday, I first had exams with one class in the morning, then I had to ride the bus for an hour to the other campus and have exams with another class in the afternoon. Though a bit tired, I was all packed and ready to go for my flight to Xi’an on Friday morning.
On our flight toward the middle of China, we hit some pretty bad turbulence. In the week prior to our flight, there had been thunderstorms in Shanghai. Soon after take-off, it seemed we were flying through a few storm fronts. It wasn’t necessarily the rocking and jolting of the plane that made the turbulence scary - it was the few seconds of free fall the plane took at one point. There were a few gasps around the cabin, but the plane steadied, and the rest of our trip only had a few more moments of mild turbulence. Immediately after touchdown, the first thing I noticed about Xi’an was the heat. On this day, and on every day of our trip, the temperatures were above 100 Fahrenheit. In this part of China, they have what is referred to as a “dry heat.” I’ve never been to Arizona, but I’ve heard the heat in Arizona is “dry;” therefore, it’s supposedly more bearable than other kinds of heat. To me, heat is heat, dry or otherwise. I don’t see how heat being dry makes it more bearable. When someone says, “the heat isn’t bad – it’s a dry heat.” I think to myself, “Yeah, and so is a blowtorch.” We boarded an air-conditioned bus that took us straight to our air-conditioned hotel. Though it was hotter than blazes outside, it was only noon; so we reluctantly set out into the city of Xi’an. On the streets of Xi’an, I noticed another quality of the city besides the heat - the pollution. This wasn’t really a surprise, however. Xi’an has a reputation for its pollution. Yaping and I remembered the words of the young Englishman we met on the Kowloon waterfront in Hong Kong. Prior to his visit to Hong Kong, he had lived in Xi’an for six weeks. When we asked for his thoughts about the city, responded saying, “Quite polluted,” in a matter-of-fact British lilt. Also, two of my foreign language colleagues told me they decided to forgo plans to visit Xi’an because they feared getting black lung. We also discovered the street traffic was quite different than other places in China. Yaping was distressed to notice that many intersections had no traffic signals - no stop lights, no stop signs, no WALK/DON’T WALK signals - nothing, but a crosswalk. At first, I thought maybe the crosswalk would guarantee car traffic stopping for pedestrians. Maybe Xi’an was the only place in mainland China where pedestrians were granted the right of way. I suggested we try crossing the crosswalks to see what happens. We took a few cautious steps into the street, but no cars slowed down. We only got honked at as the cars continued through the crosswalk. We waited a long time for a break in traffic, and then scurried across the street. But after persevering through the heat, pollution, and traffic, the streets of Xi’an bestowed a certain historical appeal. When one wants to trace the beginnings of China, they go to Xi’an. China’s very first emperor, Qin Shihuang, called Xi’an his home. One of the first historical relics you’ll notice in Xi’an is its city walls. The walls, surrounding the downtown area, form a rectangle with a 14 kilometer circumference. It’s 12 meters high and 12 meters wide. The original walls were part of the Forbidden City that was built for a Ming Dynasty emperor. But of course, the original city walls no longer exist - the current city walls of Xi’an are reconstructions. I wonder if history buffs are sometimes disappointed when visiting ancient historical sights of China. China has a very rich and long history, yet its history goes so far back, that practically none of China’s earliest structures still stand. Many structures are so old, that they’ve crumbled to an unrecognizable heap of stones. The sites a history buff might want to visit in China are more often reconstructions that were built in the 1800s or 1900s. I suppose reconstructions are better than nothing, but I can imagine some history buffs being disheartened when discovering that not even one brick of an original structure remains – history has already turned it to dust. However, we can still read accurate descriptions of China’s long history through the preserved stone tablets in the Forest of Steles Museum. The decades during and after Qin Shihuang’s reign are transcribed into the stone tablets. It’s actually the heaviest collection of books in the world. One of the more interesting tablets is from 781 AD and bears a small Christian cross, indicating that Christianity existed in early China. But a few hundred years before the birth of Christ, Confucianism and Taoism were the primary belief systems of China. In the Steles Museum, we found depictions of Confucius’ image and inscriptions of his teachings. We also saw an ancient statue of Loazi, a founder and philosopher of Taoism. He lived around 550-450 BC, therefore, he was a contemporary of Confucius (551-479 BC). Xi’an is so steeped in Chinese history, that historical relics were being found around the city all the time. And it seems so many relics are found totally by accident. The Terracotta Warriors, whom we would be seeing the next day, were found by farmers digging a well. And one stone animal in the Steles Museum was found during the construction of a light bulb factory. I guess this is how most ancient relics are found, totally by accident. After the Forest of Steles Museum, it was time to walk the city walls of Xi’an. My guidebook said there was an access ramp to the wall near the museum, but Yaping as usual didn’t trust my guidebook. So she asked a taxi driver for directions. Well, she ended up asking the wrong taxi driver. He answered her question, but he also spent the next 10 minutes trying to convince her to let him drive us to the Terracotta Warriors the next day. She was convinced. Yaping didn’t want us to end up having the same experience as in Beijing, when a bus tour took us to several unexpected destinations. The taxi driver would pick us up the next morning from our hotel and take us straight to the Terracotta Warriors. We shook the driver’s hand to seal the deal, and then ventured onto the city walls. The taxi driver had warned us that walking the walls wouldn’t be enjoyable on such a hot day, and it turned out he was right. I once lived in a small city surrounded by an old Roman wall. It was in England; the city was called Chester. I walked the city walls just about every week because the views of downtown Chester were amazing. And with its narrow walkways and stairs, you felt like you were walking some secret passageway through the city. The city walls of Xi’an and city walls of Chester are very different. Xi’an’s city walls are very wide - about as wide as a two-lane highway. And the gray flat-stone walkway is very flat and very straight; it felt like there was nowhere to escape from the sun beating down on us. And from our vantage point on the wall, we found that the whole city of Xi’an is very flat. Looking off into the distance, there were no mountains – not even a few small hills. And looking at the city structures near the wall, we saw mostly industrial looking buildings. Since walking the walls Chester was still fresh in my memory, I couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed by Xi’an’s walls. Thus we were on the wall for only about 15 minutes - I suggested that we find a shady sidewalk to walk on instead. As we got down from the scorching city wall, the shaded sidewalk along a nearby canal looked very welcoming. People were strolling in the shade by the water, some were fishing, others were reading newspapers. Unfortunately, Yaping and I had the hardest time trying to find access to the sidewalk. Along the canal was a steep embankment, topped by a three-foot high cement barrier. We walked along the barrier for two long city blocks yet couldn’t find any access to the canal. We turned back thinking we must have missed some steps down to the sidewalk. But still we couldn’t find any way past the barrier. After about 30 minutes of pacing back and forth along the barrier, I finally decided drastic measures needed to be taken. I started looking over the barrier for some shortcut in the slope down to the water. I eventually found one, but it wouldn’t be easy – it was about 20 feet down to the water and the slope was steep. I imagined us losing our footing and falling right into the canal. But I was determined to get down to the shady sidewalk, and Yaping said she would do anything to get out of the sun. So we started down the steep embankment. We basically had to crab-walk for most of our way down, grabbing roots and weeds to keep from slipping. I noticed a few spectators on the other side of the canal - I gave them a confident nod in hopes of communicating that we knew exactly what we were doing. We finally reached the bottom of the slope. As I brushed the dust of my hands and bum, I mentioned to Yaping that this was much more adventurous than anything we had done in Yandang Mountain. The walk along the canal was very nice, though the water seemed just as polluted as the air. We often stopped, stood in the shade, and just watched the water and the people sitting along the canal. Also, we walked to see if there really was some access to the sidewalk that we had somehow missed. Well, we found a couple of the walkways to the water, but one was pad-locked closed, and the other, believe it or not, was bricked up! But we did eventually find a walkway that actually led back up to the city streets. Once back on the streets, it was nearing 6pm, so we decided it was time to head back to the hotel, stopping at a restaurant along the way. As we walked the polluted streets, I was again amazed at the flatness of Xi’an. We found a place for dinner. Yaping wanted me to try a dish called Yangrou Paomo, which was distinctive in this part of China. This dish actually had a do-it-yourself quality to it. You are first given a large bowl and a few pieces of flatbread. Then, you had to break up the bread into little pieces and place the pieces in your bowl. Finally, a server ladles mutton stock into your bowl. And then, you are ready to eat Yangrou Paomo. What I liked most about this dish was the size of the bowl. In Shanghai, all plates and bowls are miniature. Whenever we eat soup in Shanghai, I always have to fill up my miniature bowl several times to get an adequate serving of soup. If I had Xi’an size bowl in Shanghai, I would only need to fill the bowl once for a proper serving. Over dinner, Yaping and I shared our first impressions of Xi’an. At this point in the trip, I felt the city was too hot, too flat, and too polluted. But tomorrow, most of our traveling would be outside of Xi’an. The Terracotta Warriors were in the country-side, about 10 miles from the city.
So our next day itinerary was all set, courtesy of Xi’an’s taxi service. Yaping and I were looking forward to being in total control of our itinerary, with a driver that would respond to our every whim. At 8am, we had a knock at our hotel door. It was our driver. Only it wasn’t the taxi driver we spoke to the day before. It was his “brother.” And as he walked us to his car, we found out he wasn’t even a registered taxi driver – it looked like he would be driving us around in his personal car. Yaping interrogated him to make sure he would be reliable. When he passed her test, we reluctantly got in the car and headed to the Terracotta Warriors. Or so we thought. We were soon disappointed to discover that the driver had his own itinerary. Before the Terracotta Warriors, he wanted to take a little detour to a jade museum. Though we declined, he insisted and wouldn’t take no for an answer. There was some sort of deal he couldn’t pass up – if he brought people to the museum, he’d get a free bottle of motor oil. Fortunately, the detour was quick, our driver got his oil, and we were back on track toward the Terracotta Warriors. All in all, the drive was pleasant because we got to see a different country-side than what we had seen from the trains from Shanghai and from the bus to Yandang Mountain. The land here was a lot drier and more scorched. There were no rice paddies. There were only dried stalks of wheat and corn. As we drew near to the Terracotta Warriors, my anticipation grew. The warriors were basically my main reason for coming to Xi’an. They were considered one of China’s premier attractions along with the Great Wall of China. The Terracotta Warriors were actually discovered in 1974, but they had been hidden underground since around 200 BC. When they were unearthed, the life-sized statues were found standing in battle formation, seemingly ready for attack. Along with the warriors, archeologists found horses, chariots, and weapons. The detail is amazingly life-like, and every soldier differs in facial features and expressions. Immediately after the first soldiers were unearthed, the archeologists noticed they had been painted in dark reds and blues. But within three minutes, the colors started to fade and within ten minutes the paints had completely faded to gray. After unearthing close to 6000 soldiers, archeologists decided they should temporarily stop the excavation process, just so they don’t ruin the paint jobs on all the warriors. So even though there are thousands of warriors on view, there could be thousands more still underground, preserved under the soil. We walked through the various parts of the excavation. There were pictures of Bill Clinton walking down among the soldiers - where regular tourists aren’t allowed to tread. I was shocked to learn that the farmers who found the Terracotta Warriors didn’t get rich from their discovery. Yaping explained that the discovery occurred during the height of communist China - money wasn’t really a concept at the time. It really wasn’t possible for anyone to get rich. After discovering the immense size of the vaults containing the warriors and they way they were positioned, historians concluded that they are acting as guards for the burial site of Qin Shihuang, China’s very first emperor. There’s little doubt that Qin Shihuang’s mausoleum is probably the largest mausoleum in the world. And so after visiting the Terracotta Warriors, we asked our driver to take us to Qin Shihuang’s actual burial site - about 3 miles to the east. Upon arrival, there really isn’t much to see since the tomb is still buried under a mound of dirt. But we got a ride around the base of the mound on a cart pulled by a pony. And the old Chinese man who operated the cart told us the whole history of the tomb. The emperor wanted his mausoleum to be like a palace. He wanted it to be the grandest mausoleum the world had ever seen. The tomb housed ceilings vaulted with pearls, statues of gold and silver, and rivers of mercury. I thought a river of mercury was an odd choice, but I guess the emperor wanted a priceless liquid that could imitate water. Since the emperor feared grave robbers and looters, he had all of the intellectuals and artisans who helped design and build his mausoleum buried alive with him. He wanted the secrets of the underground palace to be buried with him. Also, he had elaborate booby traps installed throughout the palace, especially around the treasures - just like an Indiana Jones movie. And also, as was common when ancient emperors were buried, his concubines were buried alive with him. In the case of Qin Shihuang, his hundreds of concubines were sealed in his tomb with him. Riding around the tomb on the little pony-pulled cart, it was hard to imagine that under this mound of dirt was a vast palace, gilded in riches, and filled with corpses of people buried alive. Not only that, but the necropolis reached for miles and miles in every direction, with no exact boundary. Perhaps in the future, there’d be another discovery, beyond the Terracotta Warriors, showing that the boundaries of Qin Shihuang’s mausoleum spanned even greater distances than earlier imagined. To lighten the mood a bit, I asked the cart driver what he had named the pony. He said it didn’t have a name. I suggested he name the pony Bill. He said he would consider it. This was all translated through Yaping, of course. After the ride around the perimeter, we walked the steps to the flat top of the mound. On our way back down, we saw a theatre troupe doing a re-enactment of the Terracotta Warriors. It appeared the warriors were gearing up for battle. I felt sorry for the actors; the warrior outfits and armor looked to be a bit too much on such a hot day. After Qin Shihuang’s mound, we made a quick stop by Yang Guifei’s pool. Yang Guifei was a famous concubine during the Tang Dynasty. The Tang emperor that owned her designed this pool area so that she could bathe in the hot springs. Legend has it, she was so full-figured that she broke one of the brick steps as stepped into her pool. Apparently, during the Tang Dynasty, large women were considered the ideal beauty. After we spotted the broken brick, it was time for our last destination, the Big Goose Pagoda. Big Goose Pagoda is known for housing the Buddhist scriptures that the monk Xuan Zang brought back from India. Bringing the scriptures to China introduced Buddhism to the Chinese, so this is a sacred site for many Chinese Buddhists. It’s also known for having an impressive view of the city and country-side from its top floor at 180 feet. We decided to end our day by checking out the largest fountain in Asia, right in the Big Goose Pagoda’s backyard. The fountain was immense, about the size of a football field, and there were kids and teens running around to the edges where water was gushing out. It was also the shape of a football field, with a two-foot high concrete barrier around its perimeter. Vertical lines ran along its width, and spouts along these lines shot water up to 30 feet in the air. We found out that the fountain has a water show every night with music and lights. We decided to stick around until it was dark enough for the show to start. As the sun was setting, it appeared as though the fountain was warming up – every few minutes, water would randomly shoot out from one of the vertical lines The loudspeakers around the fountain warned people to stand behind the barriers, but no one listened. And once all traces of day were gone, the music started, the lights came on, and the vertical lines of the fountain suddenly erupted with water. Everyone within the barriers was drenched within seconds. But they loved it. It had been a long scorching day and they stood gratefully below the towers of water. The music, lights, and water were all synchronized. We watched as parents playfully encouraged their kids to play in the water, while siblings pushed each other into the jets of water. One teen couple stood holding each other as torrents of water fell all around them. Some pre-teens stood point-blank in front of spouts, waiting for the water to gush out. And the toddlers were simply scared by the whole spectacle. Since Yaping and I were both tired from the long day, we left the show early and took a cab back into downtown Xi’an. We had a late dinner in a place not far from our hotel. As we reflected on our day, we realized that we had been in control of most of our itinerary. Other than the quick detour to the jade museum, the day had gone exactly as planned. And we looked forward to our next day Xi’an. Before our 5pm flight back to Shanghai, we planned for our last hours in Xi’an to be low key and relaxing.
Actually, I was concerned about the day starting off too low key – we were planning on visiting the Xi’an Museum. Some may think this would be a boring choice, but since Xi’an is considered the birthplace of what we know as China, it was an important stop in our trip. And it turned out to be well worth our time, the museum experience worked as a glue to hold together all the pieces of Chinese history I had assembled in the two previous days. The museum turned out to be world-class and I was able to fill in all of the blanks in my understanding of Chinese history. The museum went dynasty by dynasty, from the very first dynasty, Qin (221-207BC), to the very last dynasty, Qing (1644-1911). Before emperors and dynasties, there were seven warring states and Xi’an was the central city of the state of Qin. Eventually, the ruler of Qin, a man named Qin Shihuang made a bold push to conquer the six surrounding states. After years of civil war, and he finally succeeded. He then unified all seven states, and declared himself emperor of the new nation. That was how Qin Shihuang became the first emperor of China. In unifying the seven states, he also unified their walls. Before being conquered, each state had built a wall to protect itself from the other states. When Qin Shihuang unified the states, he also unified their walls. Thus began the very first inception of the Great Wall of China. His unification of China also included standardizing the currency, weights, measures, and written script. Despite spurring China’s unification, Qin Shihuang is also remembered for his tyranny and cruelty. As I’ve already mentioned, he buried hundreds alive in his tomb with him. He also slaughtered whole towns if he felt they harbored any infidels. And he conducted mass-scale book burnings of any texts that were not in accord with his beliefs. When Qin Shihuang eventually died, his less tyrannical son became emperor. It wasn’t difficult for a common farmer named Liu Bang to incite an uprising against the son. Thus, the Qin dynasty ended and the Han dynasty began. As we walked through each dynasty of the China, I realized that whenever one dynasty devolved into corruption, it was always common farmers who would rise up to finish off the failing dynasty and bring about a new one. Whenever any emperors become too oppressive or deceitful, farmers would lead the revolution to overthrow the empire. When I pointed this out to Yaping, she said, “It’s true. It seems only through terrible violence, bloodshed, and murder can one dynasty end and a new one begin.” But I was most impressed that in China, farmers were always the primary agents for social betterment. Our very last stop for the whole trip was a stroll through the Muslim Quarter. The Muslim population in Xi’an has always been strong through the ages. Within the Muslim Quarter, the primary evidence of the Muslims’ long legacy in Xi’an is the Great Mosque, built in 742 AD. In the Quarter, we also tried various Muslim snack places and bought some souvenirs. After a couple hours in the Quarter, we hopped into a cab, got our luggage from the hotel, and were in the airport at 4pm. The flight back to Shanghai was less turbulent than the flight to Xi’an. On the flight back, I reflected on how much Chinese history I had learned in Xi’an. From all that I had seen and learned, I felt I had a better understanding of Chinese culture. Though I felt Xi’an had few unpleasant aspects at the outset, I was very impressed by the city’s historical cachet. Thanks to Xi’an, I’d return to Shanghai with a more profound understanding of the cultural and historical forces that created modern China. It had really been a whirlwind week - speech final exams sandwiched between one trip to rural mountains and another trip to the flattest city in China. And as I looked out at China’s sprawling countryside through our plane’s window, I realized how my three days in Xi'an presented only the tip of the iceberg in China's vast history. And my two days in Yandang Mountain, was only the tip of the iceberg in China's incredibly diverse geography. To be a student of China's history and culture is truly a life-long endeavor. Hope all remains well on your side of the globe!
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